Honor's Heir
by Markal
Summary: Five years. A stolen sword and a thief. A name and a will to uphold.
1. Chapter 1: Thief!

**A PortalWerks Fanfiction**

**Samurai 7: Honor's Heir**

**Chapter 1: Thief!**

* * *

Five years had passed. The rice stalks were swaying in the wind. An early summer morning in Kanna. 

Rikichi and his wife Sanae were in one of the village rice fields, inspecting the heads of the stalks. Rikichi nodded in approval as he straightened up from his scrutiny. "We'll have another fine harvest this year. The seven gods of rice have been kind to us again."

Sanae nodded, but had a slight expression of puzzlement on her face. "The seven... gods of rice?"

Rikichi chuckled. "I guess I never told you about that one, huh? It was a story mentioned by one of our saviors, Heihachi. The first day that we met in Kougakyou, the samurai remarked that there were seven gods of rice. The guardians of the crop." Rikichi turned towards the distant horizon near the mountains which overlooked the village and shook his head sadly. "Poor Heihachi."

It wasn't mentioned out loud, but Sanae knew that Rikichi wasn't just thinking of Heihachi. He was thinking of them all.

The Seven.

A series of muted taps caused the pair to turn their heads as the village elder walked up. Rikichi bowed in greeting. "'Morning, Grandad."

The village elder nodded in greeting as he made his own inspection of the rice with a gnarled hand. The heads were starting to slightly bend towards the earth. "'Morning. Fine rice?"

Rikichi smiled and nodded as he turned his gaze back to the shimmering ricefields that he loved so well. "Yep! Another fine harvest. We'll definitely have our storehouses fit to bursting this year."

The village elder smiled at those words, but then his face fell for a moment. Rikichi noticed the old man's change in mood and felt some anxiety.

"Gramps, is something wrong?"

The old man shook his head sadly and sighed. "...It's just so sad."

"What's so sad?"

The village elder shook his head. "We all owe so much to those splendid seven. Yet, most of us have now almost completely forgotten about them." The old man paused for a moment, lost in thought as he stared up at the mountains, which hid the graves of the four who had died in the defense of a village. "I wonder... is this the price that samurai such as they pay for greatness?"

* * *

Komachi hummed a small tune as she headed towards the foothills with a tray of food in hand. It was her time to be with them... to be with the fallen. Every morning, the young girl would carry three bowls of rice each, for Gorobei, Kyuuzo, Heihachi... and an extra large portion for Uncle. 

The young water diviner still hadn't completely gotten over Kikuchiyo's death. She still sometimes cried in her sleep. But every day, the wound festered less and less. Happier times and remembrances were slowly replacing the memory of Kikuchiyo's feet, stubbornly embedded in the dirt.

Thoughts of Katsushiro, on the other hand...

Komachi sighed as she thought about her older sister. Kirara still pined for the young samurai... but by now, it seemed rather pointless to entertain any possible hope of his return. Kirara, however, could be as stubborn as stubborn could be. Some women were just hopeless. The girl sighed again.

Kanna, with the hard-won defeat of the raiding Nobuseri, had slowly started to prosper. The village now had another generation of kids laughing, giggling, playing, dancing and singing. Life was slowly returning to the way it should have been. All thanks to them. The Seven.

Coming up over the last rise, Komachi smiled and started to give her daily greeting to the graves of the four. "Good morning everyone-" At that moment, the young girl's eyes widened and she froze where she stood. There was a muted clatter as the tray of rice clattered to the ground.

For a moment, there was complete silence. Komachi suddenly broke it with only one horrified word. _"Uncle...!"_ Where there should have been five swords, there were now only four. Kikuchiyo's sword was gone.

* * *

Time hadn't changed Kougakyou a bit. The streets were still crowded and dirty, the noise and heat were still stifling, and the merchants plying their wares continued to line both sides and even the middle of the large thoroughfare. 

Time, however, had managed to work its mischief on the erstwhile young. Katsushiro Okamoto would find no flaw in that argument. He was a living example of it.

Hair had lengthened, partly due to time and a slight slacking-off in personal grooming. His face, due to time, wind, and hardship, had become weathered and had lost much of the roundness it had originally possessed. Clothing and color of fabric had shifted to fit a more pragmatic lifestyle. And money…

Katsushiro pulled a small purse out of his pocket and sighed. Enough for only two more guaranteed days of food and shelter. After that, it would be back to odd jobs again. Heihachi would probably have suggested woodcutting. The thought of the eternally cheerful samurai brought a smile to Katsushiro's face. He missed Heihachi. He missed everyone.

Kambei.

Kikuchiyo.

Gorobei.

Heihachi.

Shichiroji.

Even Kyuuzo, in his own way.

Kirara… and the other villagers from Kanna.

Katsushiro sighed again as he stuffed his purse back into his pocket. Maybe if-

"BRING IT ON!"

The yell and the noise of a rapidly gathering crowd at a nearby intersection roused Katsushiro's curiosity. Arching an eyebrow, the samurai strode over.

The crowd had formed into a rough circle around a figure standing in the street. A rambunctious street kid with orange hair was standing in the center of the clearing, a gigantic oblong object wrapped in dirty rags hefted onto one shoulder. Judging by the amount of noise he was making, he was obviously the source of the challenge that Katsushiro had heard earlier. The kid bayed at the sun once more.

"HOI! I'LL TAKE ANYONE ON! ANY OF YOU GUYS THINK THAT YOU'RE A MATCH FOR ME?"

Katsushiro could only shake his head in some disgust, but smiled slightly as well. The kid was just like Kikuchiyo when they first met.

There was a brief rustle in the crowd, and a small gloved hand popped up in its midst. The orange-haired kid grinned as he spotted the hand that had been raised in answer. "Good! A brave opponent!"

The owner of the hand, a small, short swordfighter whose face was hidden under the hood of a cloak, walked up and bowed. A muffled voice issued from the hood's depths. "What is your name?"

The rambunctious kid jabbed a cocked thumb at his chest as he gave an impudent grin. "The name's Kenzoku, legendary samurai from the west! I make armies tremble at my approach!"

The hooded figure merely shook its head in apparent contempt as it motioned to a nearby street vendor selling wooden practice swords. The vendor, grinning with understanding, threw a pair into the clearing. The figure then turned back to the boy. "Kenzoku, was it? Never heard of the name. And I think the only thing that would tremble at your approach would be the public latrine."

Kenzoku was taken aback, but quickly recovered as he set down his burden onto the ground and picked up one of the swords. "Well, it'll become famous enough when I-!"

The muffled voice snorted with contempt. "When you _what_? _Beat me_? I'd sure like to see you try it, boy."

There was no further hesitation as the boy sprang forwards, weapon upraised. There was a brief flash of wind and the blur of two colliding bodies…

And just as suddenly as they met, the two parted and turned to face each other in the street. Kenzoku gave his opponent another smartass grin. "Well, looks like it's a tie."

The hooded one merely sighed in disgust and shook its head. "Wrong. You're dead."

The boy's eyes widened in disbelief. "SAY WHAT?"

"A real sword would have killed you," the hooded figure replied casually as it returned the borrowed weapon back to its proprietor.

Kenzoku's face took on a comical aspect of anger as he glowered at the swordfighter. "GRRR… THEN LET'S PROVE IT!" The boy bellowed as he flung his borrowed weapon back to its owner as well. The hooded figure merely shrugged and unsheathed a long blade in one fluid movement.

Without another word, Kenzoku dashed over to the burden he had been carrying and pulled the cover off.

There was a brief flourish of stained cloth. Katsushiro's eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

It certainly looked much the worse for wear, but the red double-handle and massive battered blade was unmistakable. The kid was carrying Kikuchiyo's weapon. What made it even more stupefying was the fact that the kid, who was nothing more than a mere shrimp, was lifting up the massive blade without breaking a sweat.

Members of the crowd also gasped and conversed in excited jabbers as they watched the boy heft the huge blade with ease.

Kenzoku's opponent seemed to pause in apparent surprise and grudging admiration as well. "I'll give you this much, boy. You've got more strength than I expected in those scrawny arms of yours. What kind of freaks are those villages raising these days?"

Kenzoku's face darkened at the stranger's question. Without warning, the boy suddenly sprang forward with the massive sword upraised in both hands. "YAAAAAAH!"

His opponent merely sighed and assumed a ready stance. "Stupid boy."

There was a brief flash, and then a tremor as the huge weapon gouged dirt and concrete out of the spot where the hooded swordfighter had been standing only a moment before. Then there was a brief clash of steel, and the next moment found the kid standing stock-still in the middle of the intersection, the weapon still buried up to the hilt where it had made impact with the pavement.

The hooded one calmly stood behind him as the clatter of a weapon being sheathed echoed through the street. "You've got guts and strength, boy. But you lack brains."

Kenzoku made no reply as he abruptly collapsed wide-eyed into the dust.

There were a few gasps from the crowd and pitying shakes of the head as the boy made no sign that he would be getting up.

After a few moments, the crowd dispersed, with hushed dialogue and a few choice remarks of contempt intermittently dispersed throughout the observers as they returned to their businesses.

As the crowd thinned out, Katsushiro strode forwards as he knelt down next to the body of the youth.

"You know him?" The hooded fighter was vigorously wiping its katana with a clean, oiled cloth as it indicated the boy.

Katsushiro shook his head as he grasped the hilt of Kikuchiyo's battered sword and wrenched it from the earth with a sharp effort. Katsushiro then looked down at the crumpled figure lying at his feet.

"Don't worry, I didn't kill him."

Katsushiro looked up at the hooded stranger and arched an eyebrow in question.

"He's only unconscious. Just gave him a whack on the head with the flat of the blade. The whelp should be back on his feet in a few hours." Kenzoku's erstwhile opponent stuffed the cloth into the depths of the cloak and re-sheathed the weapon. "Would be a shame to have killed him. So much strength in one so young, to be able to wield the blade of a machine-samurai…" The fighter shook its head in wonder, bowed to both the samurai and the crumpled figure of the boy and chuckled as it walked away down the thoroughfare.

Katsushiro could only silently agree as he returned his focus upon the unconscious boy.

* * *

There was a brief whirlwind of dirty blankets as Kenzoku suddenly regained consciousness. Katsushiro briefly looked up at the kid as he returned to maintenance on his sword. "I see that we're awake."

"Where… am I?"

"Inside an inn. You took a blow to the head, but you should be fine in a few minutes."

The orange-haired kid briefly scrabbled around for a few dazed moments, then felt around in panic as he realized something was missing, and promptly voiced his anxiety. "Hey! WHERE'S MY SWORD?"

Katsushiro made no reply and continued to polish.

"HOI! I ASKED YOU A QUESTION! WHERE'S MY DAMN SWORD!"

Katsushiro finally did speak after a few more minutes of Kenzoku's ranting, but gave a question in place of a reply. "Are you really a samurai?"

"OF COURSE I AM! WHAT DO YOU-"

In one effortless movement, Katsushiro rose from his spot and gave Kenzoku a vicious backhand. Kenzoku tumbled backwards against a wall.

"What the hell are you-?"

"You are not only a thief, you are a liar, Kenzoku… if that is even your real name!" Katsushiro managed to spit out between clenched teeth.

Kenzoku stared up at Katsushiro, speechless.

The samurai's voice rose as he started to angrily berate the young boy while pointing at Kikuchiyo's sword, lying in a corner.

"You have not only stolen the honor of this weapon by stealing it, you have stolen the honor of its owner as well!"

Kenzoku stared down at the wooden planking of the floor as Katsushiro finally sat down in tired disgust. After a moment's silence, the young boy spoke.

"My name was never a lie…"

"Where did you steal this weapon?"

"I stole it from a gravesite..." Kenzoku winced with shame at having to admit his crime. "It looked the biggest to me. I wanted it, so I took it." Kenzoku raised his head as he hesitantly glanced up at Katsushiro. "I wanted to be a samurai."

Katsushiro snorted in disgust. "You're a peasant, aren't you? Your whole manner reeks of it. Just the fact that you're willing to steal a sword from a dead samurai proves it! Why don't you give up playing these silly boys' games and go back to whatever farm you came from!"

Kenzoku suddenly looked up at Katsushiro. The boy's voice was filled with bitter anger, but there were tears in his eyes. "My farm? I have no farm! I HAVE NO VILLAGE TO RETURN TO! THEY'RE ALL DEAD...!"

Katsushiro's eyes widened. Without warning, Kenzoku sprang up from the futon he was sprawled upon, made a dash past Katsushiro while grabbing up Kikuchiyo's giant blade in the process, and whirled around to face the samurai.

Tears were still streaking the boy's face. "HONOR? WHAT IS HONOR REALLY WORTH? WILL HONOR BRING THE DEAD BACK TO LIFE! WILL IT PUT FOOD IN THE BELLIES OF THE POOR AND THE HUNGRY? WILL IT TAKE AWAY YOUR SINS AND MINE? WILL IT TAKE AWAY THE SINS OF THIS WORLD!"

Katsushiro was silent.

Sobs wracked the boy's body as he continued to spit his invective upon the young samurai. "SCREW YOUR IDEAS OF HONOR! EVEN IF I HAVE TO REMAIN HONORLESS TO MANY FOR MOST OF MY LIFE, I'LL STILL BECOME A DAMN SAMURAI, EVEN IF I HAVE TO TEAR HEAVEN AND EARTH APART TO DO IT...!"

Katsushiro stared up at the young boy, who continued to spit out a barrage of vows and promises upon the massive blade that he clutched to his chest.

"…AND I'LL EVEN RIGHT THE WRONGS OF THIS LAND WE LIVE AND DIE ON! I'LL BECOME THE GREATEST SAMURAI THAT EVER

LIVED…!"

As if he had suddenly lost all power of speech, Kenzoku abruptly fell silent and collapsed to his knees. Sobs intermittently shook his thin frame as he tightly clutched at the double-handle of Kikuchiyo's battered sword.

Katsushiro continued to maintain his silence for a long time, lost in thought. At length, he spoke. "Why do you want to be a samurai so much?" Kenzoku wiped his face with a grimy hand as he glared at the samurai sitting before him. "...It's none of your business."

Katsushiro gave a wry smile, in spite of his apparent contempt, as he appraised the young boy with a piercing look. "You're so much like him."

Despite the anger that was welling inside him, the boy's curiosity got the better of him. "Who...?"

"Kikuchiyo." The samurai glanced down at the gigantic blade as he thought back to his late comrade.

The boy glanced down at the sword he was still holding and frowned. "I don't know the name. Should I?"

Katsushiro frowned back. "You should. That's his sword you're holding." Leaning back against the wall, Katsushiro continued to speak, his eyes filled with past memories and experiences. "Kikuchiyo was just like you in the beginning. Brash, loudmouthed, crude. Before he became a samurai, he was a peasant."

"He was a peasant too?" What remained of the boy's anger vanished completely. "Then how-"

"Kikuchiyo was a machine-samurai. He gave up his niche in life to become something that he would never have become, had he remained human." Katsushiro paused, as he remembered their first encounter. "As I said, he was a lot like you. He was a braggart. Incredibly strong, but never knew how to use a blade like most proper samurai would. A lot of people never took him seriously."

Kenzoku's face fell. "A lot of people don't take me seriously either."

Katsushiro snorted in contempt. "I'm not surprised. In any event, he was nevertheless a comrade of mine. Even though a lot of people looked down on him, that never stopped him from doing what he thought was the right thing to do."

Kenzoku was silent.

"When the village of Kanna sent people out to look for able samurai to help against fighting off a band of pillaging Nobuseri, Kikuchiyo gave his help without any hesitation. And in the end..." The samurai shook his head sadly. "I guess he really proved to all of us that he truly was a samurai."

Kenzoku sat spellbound, completely engrossed in the tale. "What happened to him?"

"He died while defending Kanna. He self-destructed from the effort of trying to single-handedly stop a flying fortress from crashing into the village." Katsushiro sighed as he looked down at the giant blade. "He loved the earth, and he loved peasants. Even with all the great things he did, he never forgot where he came from." The young samurai closed his eyes as if trying to re-bury the old memories that had sprung back to mind.

Kenzoku looked down at the blade, which he still tightly gripped in one hand. "I..."

Katsushiro finally opened his eyes and stood up as he turned to face Kenzoku. "So you want to become a samurai, do you? You wish to right the sins of this world?" He pointed at Kikuchiyo's weapon. "Continue to carry that burden, then. Carry that weapon, and with it, gather up the sins of this world. Carry the burden of those sins as you kill people."

The boy stared up at Katsushiro.

The young samurai glanced down at the boy staring up at him. "The samurai Kikuchiyo always fought to protect the land and the people he loved. That sword was an extension of his will. Become a samurai, then. Carry the burden of his will, and carry the burden of his heart."

Kenzoku stared down at the blade, and then his face tightened with determination. "I will."

Katsushiro nodded, and then rubbed at his eyes. "It is late. We will discuss more of this later."

As Katsushiro turned to leave, Kenzoku abruptly spoke up. "Sir..."

"...Hmm?"

"I did not get a chance to know your name."

The samurai smiled slightly. "Okamoto Katsushiro."

"Master Katsushiro, I will gain back that honor I stole from Kikuchiyo...!"

The samurai had to hold back another smile.

_Just like Kikuchiyo…_

_

* * *

_

"Haha… So that was the way it went. Say, this is good rice wine!" The man laughed as he poured himself another serving of sake and related the events that he had seen that day.

"My rice wine is always good," The barkeeper grinned in thanks of the compliment. "Still, is it true of what you said…? Such a fellow being able to use such a gigantic blade is a near-miracle."

"Aye, it would." The man downed the sake in one gulp. "A kid exhibiting that sort of strength… it isn't natural."

The man's words attracted the attention of a nearby customer dressed in the robes of a well-to-do merchant. "You mean… this swordsman was a child?"

The gossip nodded. "Pretty much. He looked to be fourteen or fifteen years of age. Messy orange hair."

The merchant seemed to ponder the man's words. "Is that so…" Without warning, the merchant abruptly got up, bowed to the barkeeper as he tossed a few coins onto the counter, and left.

The barkeeper scratched his head. "I wonder what's with him…?"

The gossip snorted. "Probably couldn't hold his liquor. Anyway, did I mention how good this sake is…?"

* * *

Outside the bar, the merchant stopped and looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. After assuring himself that nobody could possibly be around at this time of night, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small communicator. 

There was a brief click as the communicator was flipped on. "Sir… I have news. I believe it may be what you've been looking for."

A muffled voice masked by static and distortion made a reply.

"Enlighten me, Hattori."

"I have overheard a most intriguing conversation just now. A samurai mentioned that he had fought with a small boy."

"That's worthless. I need details, Hattori. DETAILS. How can you-"

The 'merchant' seemed to wryly smile in the darkness. "Ah, but this boy was no ordinary boy, sir. The samurai observed that this boy was wielding a most unusual sword during the fight."

"Oh? What sort of sword?"

"The gigantic blade of a machine-samurai. The boy showed qualities of prodigious strength. The boy also had orange hair. It seems to fit your earlier descriptions, sir. It just may be your wayward HEIKI."

There was a long pause. After a few more moments of silence, the voice dropped down to a whisper. "Hmm… you just may have indeed found what I've been looking for. Excellent work, Hattori. We will continue this conversation later. You are free for now."

"Thank you, milord." There was a brief click, a swirl of cloth, and the merchant melted away into the night.

The wan squeaks of a rat dying from rodent poison set out earlier that morning were the only noises that continued to echo through the alley.

* * *

"That was a most interesting report. Is it authentic?" 

The two figures stood near the window, gazing out at the bustling cityscape of the capital of Edo below.

"Hattori is one of my best agents. He does not give information casually. He does not bother to contact me by remote unless he is convinced that it is something that is worth transmitting."

"Still… can it really be him, Master? Can it truly be our lost 'HEIKI'? After all these years?"

"If it is, then we must re-capture him at all costs. He is critical to our agenda."

"If we fail…?"

"We MUST not fail! We WILL not fail! Edo and the rest of the continent will become ours! I… WILL BE SHOGUN!"

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	2. Chapter 2: Talk!

**A PortalWerks Fanfiction**

**Samurai 7: Honor's Heir**

**Chapter 2: Talk!**

* * *

The early morning light trickled in through the holes of the screen, slowly waking the young boy who was still sleeping inside. Kenzoku gradually came to. "Eerrrgh... is it that time of day already...?" Rubbing his eyes, the boy shook his head to clear the fog and then looked around. 

Katsushiro had apparently left the room early in the morning. There was a brief note tagged to the handle of Kikuchiyo's sword.

_I've already paid, so don't worry about the tab._

The kid exhaled and wriggled out of his futon as he got to his feet. Briefly stretching, he then picked up his belongings, hefted Kikuchiyo's sword onto his shoulders, messily rolled his futon into one corner of the room and opened the door.

Katsushiro was waiting outside. Kenzoku gave a lopsided smile. "...and I thought you'd left."

"You're not going to get rid of me that easily. We still have matters to discuss." Katsushiro motioned for the kid to follow as he headed for a small food cart. Buying two bread rolls, he threw one to Kenzoku, which the kid eagerly caught and began avidly gnawing.

The kid spat crumbs as he spoke in-between mouthfuls. "Su... munch mis dere munch sumting ya munch wunded do munch dalk abuut munch Musthe Kutsushurr?"

Katsushiro rolled his eyes as he slowly nibbled at his own roll. "Talk after you finish swallowing."

Gulping his mouthful down, Kenzoku smiled sheepishly as he repeated his question. "So, was there something you wanted to talk about Master Katsushiro?"

Katsushiro motioned for him to follow as he began to walk down the thoroughfare, which was slowly starting to fill with vendors and street merchants setting up shop for the day. "I was wondering if you would be feeling up to answering my question today."

"...Hmm?"

Katsushiro paused for a moment to fix Kenzoku with a keen stare. "Why do you want to be a samurai?"

Kenzoku stuck out his lower lip. For a moment, Katsushiro thought that the boy would refuse to answer his question again. However, at length, the kid gave an answer. "Well... as you kinda guessed, I was born a peasant." Kenzoku's face fell, as he thought back to his home. "When my home was destroyed, I thought that maybe I could start over with my life... you know, be somebody else."

Katsushiro blinked. "So... you decided to become a samurai?"

"Well, yeah... but obviously, I didn't exactly have a sword to inherit or enough money to afford one. So, I decided to steal one instead." Kenzoku stopped for a moment, as if going over memories that had started to run the gamut in his brain. "It was around at that time that I came upon that set of graves. I took a look at all of them, and decided that I liked this one best." The kid spoke that remark without a hint of regret or apology.

"Knowing Kikuchiyo, he would have either been feeling completely flattered or completely insulted." Katsushiro shook his head and gave a wry smile. "Have you always been that strong?"

Kenzoku blinked. "What? Oh... yeah. My parents told me that I had been born with it, or something like that. I don't think they really understood what was going on either. Of course, you could kinda guess who did most of the chores around the house." The boy smiled faintly as his thoughts turned back again to home.

"I see..."

Kenzoku abruptly brightened as he shook his head to clear away the nostalgia. "So anyway, what are we gonna do today, boss? Right a few wrongs? Help the poor? Something along those lines?"

Katsushiro shook his head. "We're going to visit an old training ground of mine."

"Where?"

"The village of Kanna."

Kenzoku raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Kanna? Why?"

Katsushiro turned a corner. "Kikuchiyo's grave, whether you know it or not, lies close to Kanna Village. You took that sword from his grave without permission. It would be improper for a samurai not to make amends for it. At the very least, you should apologize to Kikuchiyo for having borrowed it without asking. And, I think a certain girl who lives there also deserves some sort of an explanation. She would be terribly upset if she didn't get one."

"A girl?" Kenzoku's face grew mischievous. "As in a girlfriend? A lover?"

Katsushiro shook his head in exasperation. "No. If I were her lover, I would have been labeled a cradle-robber."

Kenzoku rolled his eyes. "Great. Never mind then." The expression of mischief shortly returned. "But, was there some girl you were interested in back in Kanna? An older sister or a widow, perhaps?"

Katsushiro spluttered and his face grew bright red from embarrassment as his thoughts involuntarily flew to Kirara and then rather inconveniently merged them with the idea of a widow. "What! No! I... There is no such woman in Kanna!"

The grin on Kenzoku's face widened. "Yeah, yeah, you're not fooling me for one bit, Master. So you DO have a girlfriend in that village!"

"Shut up!" Katsushiro closed his eyes in tired annoyance as he held a hand to his forehead. "We are through on this subject. We will not discuss this matter further! And no, I do NOT have a girlfriend; neither in Kanna, nor anywhere else for that matter!"

Kenzoku rolled his eyes again as he tapped the flat of Kikuchiyo's sword against his shoulder. "Yeah. Whatever. Go and put yourself into fits of denial all you want. Knock

yourself out."

"I do NOT have a girlfriend!"

"Yeah. Whatever."

"Be quiet!"

A well-dressed merchant standing a short distance behind them raised his eyebrows as he pulled a small device out of his pocket and pointed it at the arguing pair.

* * *

There was a brief click. 

"Yes, Haoh?"

"I have spotted a potential target. It seems to match the description from yesterday. Orange hair, the sword of a machine samurai... The description matches word for word." The well-modulated voice gave no hint of excitement or emotion. "I have taken a visual for your benefit as well."

A picture of Katsushiro and Kenzoku walking down the thoroughfare together popped onto a nearby terminal.

"Very good. You've done well, Haoh. I will handle matters from this point. You are free for now."

"Thank you, sir." Another click. The transmission ended.

"So I guess they've actually found him, sir?" A short, fat figure walked up.

The taller, thinner figure sitting at the desk nodded. "It seems too close to be a passing resemblance. There is no doubt. It is he, although he seems to be a lacking a program." Turning to a console on the desk, the taller figure tapped a button on a control panel as a screen popped up.

"And the other?"

"He looks to be a samurai of no importance. We will deal with him as the situation dictates."

A very obese face popped up on the screen and gave a simpering smile in welcome. "My lord Iyokuhito! What a pleasant surprise! I was just thinking of you. I was wondering when you would next-"

"Cut the flattering formalities, you blubber-faced baboon of a magistrate. I have important business that I need your assistance with." The expression written on the face of Iyokuhito showed that he was clearly less than pleased with having to ask help with the Kougakyou magistrate. "There have been a series of murders committed within the lower sections of Edo. We believe that our suspect has fled to Kougakyou."

The blubbery countenance shook with fear. Whether it was real or simply put on for show was anyone's guess. "A killer? Here? In my great city? Unforgivable! Do you have a description, my lordship?"

"I am transmitting a visual for your use now. The description the criminal answers to is the face on the right." Iyokuhito indicated Kenzoku's face with a bony finger. "One of my agents stationed in the fourth quadrant of your Street of Merchants spotted him just now. Unfortunately, our criminal is incredibly dangerous. My agent cannot take him alone. I therefore wish for your constabulary to assist in his capture, but I also want him taken ALIVE. If he dies at the hands of your men, I will have your head." Iyokuhito's face twitched with well-placed anger. "I want him to be alive tried and sentenced in the death courts of Edo like the murderous dog that he is. Understood?"

The obese magistrate bowed as his face paled at Iyokuhito's threat. "Your wish is my command, my lord. I will have him taken within the hour." Another bow, and the screen

flickered to black.

Iyokuhito sighed as he settled back into his chair and turned to look back out the window at Edo's bustling streets below. "I hate having to deal with that disgusting man."

"Do you really think that the Kougakyou magistrate will actually be up to the task of taking our HEIKI alive...?" There was a puzzled countenance etched onto the shorter man's face. "As you have mentioned, he is still extremely dangerous, even if he IS lacking that combat program."

Iyokuhito shook his head. "At the very least, we will have a good track of where he now goes. I just hope that rolling tub of lard doesn't screw things up."

* * *

The two had stopped for a brief lunch at a large intersection. Kenzoku looked around his surroundings with a mixture of puzzlement and confusion. "Master...?" 

"Hmm?" Katsushiro looked up from a map posted on a public kiosk.

"Why are we still here? Are we not headed for Kanna?" The boy took another bite out of his meat dumpling.

Katsushiro looked over the map again. "I'm looking up an old friend. Before we left, I wanted to at least stop by and visit with him. This might interest you, since he knew Kikuchiyo as well."

Kenzoku merely grumbled as he continued to eat his lunch. "Whatever. I'm starting to-"

"Excuse me, sirs...?"

Katsushiro looked up again from his map with a slight amount of annoyance, then started to reach for his blade. "Yes? May I help you?"

A group of Kougakyou's constabulary had gathered in a rough semicircle around the two. The leader of the group shook his head. "I require the arrest of your companion, sir. He is wanted in Edo."

Katsushiro's look darkened as he glanced down at the young boy, who bore a look of confusion on his face. "What for?"

"Ten counts of murder in Edo's lower quarters. He is a serial killer." With that, the constables' leader pulled out a pair of wrist manacles. "Please do not resist."

Kenzoku glowered at his accuser. "You and what judge? I've never set foot in Edo in my life!" With that, he quickly brought the giant sword up, and took up a ready stance. "I'm not gonna be sent to prison for crimes I didn't even commit!"

The leader of the constables sighed. "I was afraid this would happen. Now I'll have to-"

The officer didn't have time to finish his sentence, as Kenzoku suddenly lunged forwards with a powerful swing that cut the constable's stunrod in half.

The other constables quickly moved in to cover their leader as Katsushiro angrily shot a glance at his companion. "Idiot. Now you've gotten them all worked up. We could have talked this out-"

"Screw talk. They're not here to chat with us." Kenzoku quickly swung again, forcing several constables to hit the dirt as they dodged the massive blade. Taking advantage of the brief confusion, Kenzoku quickly burst through the hole created in the surrounding line of constables. Scrambling onto a nearby roof with the aid of several stacked oil drums, the boy kicked the pile of containers over as he scrambled away over the rooftops, with most of the constabulary leaping after him in hot pursuit.

Katsushiro cursed. "Stupid idiot."

The leader of the constables managed to gain his feet and pulled out another pair of manacles as he pointed them at Katsushiro. "You... You're under arrest for complicity in an assault on a consta-"

The policeman was interrupted a second time as Katsushiro decided to forego negotiating and smacked him with the butt of his sword. "The kid was right. You idiots just don't know how to talk things out." The samurai quickly followed up by laying low the rest of the remaining constables with several more hilt-blows. Re-sheathing his weapon, Katsushiro quickly leapt onto the rooftops as he leapt off in the direction that Kenzoku and the other constables had taken.

* * *

Kenzoku wasn't sure, but it seemed as if he'd never run so fast in his life. Behind him, he could hear the occasional thuds of the boots of landing constables as they pursued him. 

What the hell was their problem! And why the hell would they think that he was a serial killer...? No, wait, could it possible...?

The kid's thoughts and headlong flight were suddenly cut short as another group of constables landed in front of his path. Kenzoku skidded to a halt, panting with exertion.

"Please, do not resist."

Kenzoku spat as he brought up his weapon again. "Please, eat sht."

With those words, Kenzoku lunged as he swung the giant sword at the nearest constable. There was a brief flurry of robes as the officer sprang backwards, with two more jumping into the fray from behind.

"OOOFH...!" There was a brief fracas near the edge as the two attempted to subdue their captive. There was another grunt of pain, this time from the pair of officers as Kenzoku blindly smashed the huge blade downward into the roof panels.

CRAAAAAAAAAAASH!

There was the horrid sound of tortured, twisting metal as the huge blade cut straight into the metal paneling, and then the almost-as-awful scraping sound of rock against metal as the huge weapon continued to carve out a huge gash into the wall that was supporting the roof.

KRA-KLAAAAAAAAAANG!

Then there was a heart-stopping moment, as the battered blade of Kikuchiyo's sword suddenly snapped in two from the massive strain that had been inflicted upon it. Kenzoku stared dumbfounded at the broken blade as he fell the rest of the way to the ground.

THUD!

Kenzoku groaned as he rubbed his sore backside. Scrambling onto his feet, the hilt still clenched tightly between his fingers, the boy swung around as the tips of three stun rods impacted into his back.

"GAAAAUGH!"

As Kenzoku struggled to clear his head, the group of constables pounced upon him, trying to subdue him by sheer weight of numbers. As Kenzoku thrashed in the seething, writhing mass of men, there was suddenly a yelp and a THUD.

The next moment, the rent-a-cops that had been dogpiling on Kenzoku decided to spontaneously levitate into the air and fall in a broken heap into a nearby open trash bin. Then there was the metallic 'clang' of a dumpster lid being clamped shut, and Kenzoku found himself no longer buried under policemen. A deep, booming voice seemed to issue from thin air.

"You all right, son?"

Kenzoku winced as he struggled to his feet, then involuntarily took a step back as he got a good look at his rescuer.

The figure that stood before him was about a head taller than any normal human would ever dare hope for in altitude. A huge, basket-like metal hat completely hid the stranger's face, and a gigantic rosary was strung around the massive frame, which was covered by the folds of a large robe. One hand carried a large staff, topped by a ring from which hung six circular chimes. Completing the picture was an exhaust pipe that jutted out from one side of the monk's hat. A Buddhist machine-monk.

The monk stared down at the boy he had rescued. "Aren't you a little young to be heading off to your next life?"

Kenzoku groaned. "I guess you'll be expecting some alms for that good deed of yours."

The monk laughed. "Judging by your possessions, I think I'm more blessed with material goods than you are."

"Kenzoku!" Katsushiro had finally managed to catch up. "Are you all right?"

The boy nodded. "I'm fine now, thanks to him." He indicated the huge monk standing next to him with a jerk of the thumb.

Katsushiro bowed to the monk. "I must thank you for your kindness, Master...?"

The machine-monk waved away the samurai's thanks with a metal-plated hand. "There is no need to kowtow to me. Mochizuki Nenjuzu, of the Mechamida sect." Abruptly there came the sharp noise of multiple fists hitting the inside of the closed trash bin. Nenjuzu scratched his hat. "I'm afraid we'll have to continue our conversation elsewhere. It seems that our friends have decided to wake up."

By the time somebody had finally bothered to unlock the lid of the trash bin, the three were nowhere to be seen.

* * *

There was another click. "This is Haoh. Those damn constables the magistrate sent out were completely incompetent. I'm afraid we've lost contact with the target, sir." 

"Never mind that. The target is still alive, so there's always a next time.

The screen flickered to life on Iyokuhito's desk as the Kougakyou magistrate's doughy face appeared. The magistrate looked awfully pale as he attempted to bow as low as he could, which wasn't much considering the tremendous girth of his body. "My lord... I'm afraid that the fugitives... have escaped."

Iyokuhito shook his head in disgust. "Fool. I expected better from you, magistrate. I want you to scour that city of yours. Notify every officer you have. Search every nook and cranny until you find him! Let nobody leave the city until we've finished. For now, begone! And until you catch him, don't show your face to me again!"

With a stammered apology, the magistrate quickly shut off his end of the transmission. Iyokuhito sighed. "Well... as I expected. That damn idiot isn't worth a damn when it comes to apprehending criminals. The only things he has any competent knowledge of are food and women."

Iyokuhito sipped at his tea. "Anyway, even with our failure to capture him, I think that he will be of much use to us. This contact with him has served its purpose. A HEIKI does not sit still when it is hunted. It takes action."

The attendant cocked an eyebrow in question. "Sir...?"

Iyokuhito smiled a toothy, predatory smile. "Even without 'that' program, a HEIKI sows the seeds of chaos wherever it goes. And with that chaos will come limitless opportunities."

* * *

"So I see." Katsushiro and Kenzoku had just finished relating their story to Nenjuzu, who cupped a small bowl of tea in his hands. The monk took another sip. 

The trio was sitting inside a secluded cafe. Kenzoku cursed as he appraised the broken weapon in his hands. "Damn. How am I gonna explain THIS to Master Kikuchiyo when we get to Kanna?" He angrily shook his head as he looked up at Katsushiro. "What the hell is up with those damn policemen!"

Katsushiro fixed Kenzoku with a long stare. "ARE you a murderer?"

Kenzoku muttered a curse, but said nothing in actual reply.

Nenjuzu shook his head. " I think the accusations were fabricated."

The boy looked up at the samurai. "What? You do?"

The machine-monk nodded. " The policemen were all armed with stunrods. The typical action invoked against a labeled murderer usually involves weapons of a more lethal nature. Magistrates do not usually care about capturing murderers alive."

The samurai shook his head. "There are many things here that do not add up. In any case, you will now have to be doubly careful, Kenzoku. Those policemen will not take this humiliation lying down." Katsushiro sighed. "The constabulary will probably keep a close eye on every gate and route that leads out of Kougakyou."

Kenzoku sighed in turn. "So what is to be done now?"

"Masamune."

"Eh? What's a masamune?"

"Masamune is my friend's name." Katsushiro got to his feet. "Masamune is a tinker, blacksmith, and an ace mechanic. He helped my friends and I to escape the last time we had to flee Kougakyou due to unfavorable circumstances. He might also be able to do something about that weapon of yours." Hefting his shoulderbag, Katsushiro bowed to the machine-monk. "I'm afraid that we must leave you now. If we continue to remain together, I fear that we might put you in unnecessary danger."

Nenjuzu snorted. "I can take care of myself. It's you two I'm worried about. Just how are you going to find this Masamune fellow-"

A finger tapped Katsushiro's back. Spinning around, the samurai's expression of alarm quickly turned to relief. "Speak of the devil. Master Masamune!"

"Indeed." A small, short man bedecked in a workshop apron and sooty clothes, which indicated the profession of a tinker, stood with arms akimbo. He had been pulling along a wheelbarrow filled with all manner of scrap metal. His rather prominent nose was red, either due to a cold or too much sake. Kenzoku couldn't decide which. Tufts of white hair composed a scant mustache and goatee. The little tinker grinned. "Long time no see, my boy. Who are these two scamps that you're hanging out with?"

Introductions were exchanged. Masamune grinned as he scanned the sky. "I see you've made new friends, Lord Katsushiro. In any case, it's getting dark, so do you mind continuing this discussion back at my place? It's still not much, but at least I would appreciate the company. Your friends would be welcome as well."

Katsushiro bowed. "Your hospitality is always welcome. I just wish the others were here as well."

Masamune's face fell. "I heard what happened to Kikuchiyo and the others from ol' Momotaro. It's just not the same without him." Shaking off the gloom, the tinker grinned again and was about to reach for his cart when Nenjuzu reached over and picked up the wheelbarrow.

The monk bowed. "Please. Allow me. It is the least I can do."

Masamune's grin widened. "Heh. Let's make tracks, everyone. My old bones aren't going to get any younger by standing around here."

Kenzoku grinned. "Aye! To the horizon…!"

(That particular remark is a reference to a certain web site. Grin)

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	3. Chapter 3: Sword!

**A PortalWerks Fanfiction**

**Samurai 7: Honor's Heir**

**Chapter 3: Sword!**

* * *

The inside of Masamune's workshop was grimy and cluttered with all manner of broken machinery and unwanted castoffs. Masamune shrugged as he grinned at Kenzoku's slightly bemused expression. "I told you, it isn't much. But, for the time being, it's your home away from home."

Kenzoku muttered something under his breath as he gingerly walked in.

Masamune pointed over to a far corner. "You can put that load over there, my good monk. I'll handle the rest."

Nenjuzu set the load of scrap metal down and sat near a roaring furnace. "Ah… warm! I almost forgot what it's like to have a good fire to sit next to."

The tinker grinned at the machine-monk's remark as he turned to Katsushiro. "Now then, take a seat, my old friend. What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

Katsushiro quickly explained the gist of their situation in a few sentences and observations.

Masamune shook his head as he fixed Kenzoku with a baleful, monocled eye. "So… you're the kid who wants to take up Kikuchiyo's burden? More stupid than brave, in my opinion… but if you think you've got what it takes, I'm not gonna stop you."

Kenzoku looked down at the hilt of Kikuchiyo's broken weapon. "Bah… I can't be a samurai without a sword. Pops, ya got a spare weapon anywhere in those junkheaps of yours?"

The tinker grumbled. "I am NOT your 'Pops'. Honestly, kids these days, they got no sense of manners… And no, I've got no spare weapons."

"Well…!"

Katsushiro shook his head as he gave Kenzoku a warning glance. "Kid… settle down. I'm not sure whether it would be any good to even" Masamune waved a hand to silence the young samurai as he picked up a set of blacksmith's tools. "Let it pass. I'm gonna help the kid out with his problem. I'm sure ol' Kiku wouldn't mind this either." The tinker walked over to a large forge. "Kid, if you want to see a blade on the end of that sword, move your butt over here and help me out."

"Oh… uh, yeah…" Blinking in some surprise, the kid got to his feet and began running back and forth to get firewood under Masamune's directions.

Once the blaze was hot enough, Masamune motioned for Kenzoku to hand him the broken sword hilt. Taking a glance at the wrecked blade, the tinker quickly started to work as he pulled out certain pieces of metal out of a nearby heap. Katsushiro and Nenjuzu also began bringing in pieces of metal that Masamune indicated he wanted from other piles of scrap.

Soon, there was the rhythmic tattoo of a pounding hammer. Lulled into drowsiness by the repetitive staccato, Kenzoku soon fell asleep.

* * *

Kenzoku began to dream.

Fog swirled around him as he continued to run. He didn't know why or where he was running to. His legs simply took him at their own pace.

There was the sound of a conflagration. Kenzoku paused.

Dead bodies lined the streets of the small village. The only living being stood in the center of the main thoroughfare.

Stumbling over, Kenzoku noticed that the figure held a bloodied sword. His legs took him closer… and closer… and closer… and closer… Until he was face-to-face with the figure standing in the street.

Kenzoku's eyes widened in shock as the fog cleared around the figure's countenance. The boy tried to yell, to whisper, to scream, to do anything… but his voice was gone.

The face staring back at him… was his own.

The double standing in front of him grinned evilly as it indicated a particular pair of bodies with its sword. Kenzoku slowly looked down.

The bodies of his parents lay in the street. Denial was all that Kenzoku could do. A scream finally came.

"No… NO… NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" With a violent start, the boy awoke in a cold sweat.

A huge hand clapped his shoulder to restrain him. "Easy, boy. You've obviously been having a nightmare." Nenjuzu was standing over him with a bowl of miso soup in hand. "Want to tell me about it?"

Kenzoku grimaced, but then looked rather embarrassed. "I… I forgot what it was about!"

The machine-monk laughed. "That happens to me quite often. In any case, your nighttime writhing made it quite difficult to change your clothes."

"Ehh…?" Kenzoku looked down at his clothing and leapt up in surprise. "EIIIIIIE!"

Katsushiro walked in and smiled wanly. "You look a lot like Kikuchiyo now. A fitting tribute for one whose will you now carry."

Kenzoku's rough, homespun peasant clothes had been replaced with an oversized red tunic and straw-yellow shorts, with designs etched onto it that resembled those of Kikuchiyo's armor. Where his old cloth bandanna had been tied around his forehead, a metal-plated head protector complete with an eyeslit had now replaced it.

Kenzoku scratched his head, dumbfounded. "Who the heck…?"

Katsushiro smiled lightly. "It was Masamune's idea. He figured that since you're going to carry Kikuchiyo's sword, you might as well look the part. Besides, your clothing was starting to stink. Don't you ever do any laundry?"

Kenzoku turned bright red. "I do… I've just forgotten to do it lately."

"He really does look quite a bit like Kikuchiyo."

Masamune had walked out from behind one of his numerous piles of scrap as he finished wiping his hands. "Well, then. I must say, kid, you gave me a lot of work to do. Took me almost the whole night to finish it."

An eager expression of anticipation lit up Kenzoku's face. "So is it…"

The tinker laughed. "Haha… the young. Impatient as usual. Why don't you just come and see it?" Motioning for Kenzoku to follow him, Masamune walked over behind a scrap heap.

Kenzoku followed… and stood stock-still as he saw the blade sitting in front of him on top of an anvil.

Kikuchiyo's old blade had been drastically altered, polished, and cleaned. One of the two handles had been removed to allow for easier use by Kenzoku's smaller hands. The length of the handle had been shortened. And a new blade replaced the old, battered one.

The new blade was somewhat shorter than the old one, but the sheen and sharpness of the edge attested to its superiority over the old blade.

Masamune rubbed the back of his head. "That blade took forever for me to make. Those metals for the alloy weren't easy to find, let me tell you."

"Amazing…" It was all that Kenzoku could manage to utter. Taking one halting step towards the blade, the boy stretched out a hand… and hesitated.

Nenjuzu laughed at Kenzoku's behavior. "Don't be so shy about picking up a new blade, Kenzoku. It's not a girl, you know."

Taking a deep breath, Kenzoku grumbled something about impertinent monks, grabbed the hilt, and lifted the sword off the anvil. Kenzoku was immediately struck by the lightness of the new weapon.

Kenzoku turned around and slowly started to take a few practice swings. "It feels wonderful. It feels like a part of my hand…"

Masamune smiled. "That is the gratification of a hard night's work. Well, that settles that, then."

The boy turned around to face the tinker. His eyes were moist. "Master, is there any possible way in which I could repay y-"

Masamune snorted and waved away his offer. "No pay accepted, boy. I didn't just forge this sword for you."

"…?"

The tinker sighed as he thought of a certain machine-samurai. "I did this for Kikuchiyo's sake as well. The old rustbucket was a good friend to me. It would have been evil of me to have neglected him and his legacy after all that he had done for a small village of peasants." Masamune removed his monocle and wiped at his eyes. "Kid…"

Kenzoku looked up from his appraisal of the new sword. "Hmm?"

"You will have a lot to live up to in order to prove yourself to that weapon and its owner. Don't let them down."

The boy returned his gaze upon the new weapon and nodded. "I won't." Taking a sudden swing with the new blade, Kenzoku stuck it into a nearby pile of scrap as he turned to the others. "Let's head for Kanna! I've got a sword to return!"

Katsushiro nodded as he grunted agreement. "Yes! We mustn't keep them waiting." He turned to Masamune. "You have done much for us, Master, but we still need further assistance from you. Is that route to the elevator train still useable?"

Masamune nodded as he opened up a trapdoor in the floor. "Aye. I've managed to jury-rig a new cargo tram as well, so leaving shouldn't be a problem. The local police completely forgot about cordoning off the platform after all that chaos when the Emperor died. It's somewhat crude, but I don't think that's going to be a problem for your purposes. Just try not to wreck it this time, okay…?"

Katsushiro winked. "Don't worry yourself about that." He then turned to Nenjuzu. "What about you?"

The machine-monk chuckled. "Actually, I was wondering if I could tag along. I haven't had this much fun in a long while."

The young samurai smiled lightly. "Well… if you get hurt, don't come to me for help!"

Nenjuzu pounded his chest with a fist. "Bah, don't worry about me, you young rip. Worry about yourselves!" With that, Nenjuzu grabbed up his belongings. "Well, what are we waiting for, then? Shouldn't keep those villagers waiting!"

Kenzoku grinned. "Hoi! You said it, monk!"

Masamune laughed as he pulled out a huge ladder. "Well said. Come, my friends. Down we go!"

* * *

The trip through the maze of air ducts and tunnels proved relatively uneventful. Within a few hours, the group found itself on a large platform attached to a train track that pointed straight down into the valley's depths. A crude-looking trolley that looked as if it had been pieced together from a wrecked locomotive hung onto the tracks.

Katsushiro smiled. "This brings back memories."

"Huh?" Kenzoku cocked an eyebrow in question.

"Last time we fled Kougakyou, we took this exact same route. I still miss everyone." Katsushiro thought for a second, then shook off the memories as he stepped into the trolley. "Er… how does this work? Heihachi was always better at these things."

"Heihachi?" Kenzoku had been scrutinizing a series of dials attached to a nearby pylon.

"An old friend. I'll tell you about him later."

Masamune quickly shoveled a bucket of coal into the rear of the trolley as he adjusted several pulleys. "Well, that should do it. Just keep a firm grip on that brake lever there, and don't go wild with the speed. The end of the line should take you outside the city walls." He wiped his monocle again. "If you ever see Kambei again in this world, give him my greetings for me."

Katsushiro bowed. "I will, Master Masamune. Thanks again for everything, old friend."

Nenjuzu and Kenzoku quickly hopped into the back of the trolley as Masamune kicked the release lever. "Take care, Pops! Eat some riceballs for me!"

"Farewell, you young scamp! Take care of that sword for me!" Masamune yelled as he waved farewell.

A few more meters, and then the platform and the tinker standing on it disappeared from view.

* * *

The fast-moving trolley did not go unnoticed as it shot out from a side-tunnel. Some distance away, on another section of track, another well-dressed merchant observed the trolley's progress through a pair of binoculars. There was another click.

"…Yes?"

"This is Jiro. I've found them, sir. Second rail-line of the third quadrant. They're on some sort of a steam-powered trolley."

"Excellent. Call in the nearest constabulary and notify them that the target has been found. Don't lose them, Jiro."

"Yes sir."

The communicator clicked off, and Jiro picked up a nearby telephone. "Constable platoon 33-F, report to Rail-line 4 of Quadrant 3. Targets have been sighted."

* * *

Kenzoku nodded in approval as the trolley shot down the tracks. "Good! With this speed, we should be outta the city soon. That old man sure knows how to build a mean ride!"

The machine-monk sitting next to him nodded as he looked down at the huge valley below them. "Aye. That Masamune is an able fellow. I'll have to remember to pay him another visit when this is all over."

Katsushiro suddenly froze.

"Is something wrong, Master?"

"Hush! I think something's following us!" Katsushiro looked up in alarm as a dark mass suddenly descended from above.

A huge steam locomotive was catching up from behind. Standing on the front platform was a group of constables, and a pair of can-shaped armorsuits.

Kenzoku cursed. "Dammit! We've been found! They must have spotters everywhere!"

Katsushiro pulled onto the brake lever as he motioned to Nenjuzu. "Sir, I need you to hold onto this brake lever. Don't let go of it."

The monk nodded as he gripped the brake with a firm hand. "Don't worry, Master. Just take care of those fellows above us!"

Katsushiro motioned to Kenzoku. "Well, then, let's see what sort of greeting we should give them."

Kenzoku grinned as he clambered onto the rear fender with his sword in hand. "I vote for a rude one!"

The samurai smiled as he pulled out his own weapon. "Well said. Let's go!"

The first pair of constables that had tried to leap onto the fleeing trolley was punted aside by the flat of Kenzoku's huge blade. The next pair managed to dodge the first series of swings and started to exchange blows with the trolley's defenders.

Amidst the confusion, another locomotive sped by on a neighboring section of track. Several constables jumped off the engine's boarding platform and jumped onto the trolley's front end.

Nenjuzu cursed. "By the hot and cold Hells!" Grabbing up his staff, the machine-monk knocked one of the officers off the fender before the remainder grabbed up some knives and stuck them into a section of rubber piping that was looped around the front end.

There was a hiss of escaping lubricant as the officers abruptly let go of the fender and leapt away into the darkness. The monk cursed as he realized that the hydraulics line for the brake had been sliced open.

"KYAAAARRGHH!" Kenzoku jumped onto the front end of the pursuing engine behind them and plunged the huge blade into the front end of the boiler. The jet of steam that issued from the gash forced the other constables on the platform to jump off in order to escape the scalding gas.

Kenzoku grinned at his handiwork and jumped back onto the rear fender of the trolley. Even as he did so, the ruptured boiler suddenly went to pieces, tearing the pursuing engine's chassis to ribbons.

Katsushiro nodded in approval and turned to Nenjuzu. "How are we doing?"

"Poorly!" The monk snapped back as he continued to appraise the situation. "The brake line's been cut!"

In the distance, where the tracks curved into a path level with flat ground, a group of parked cargo cars could be seen blocking the way.

Kenzoku spat. "Damn! We're all gonna die!"

Katsushiro wiped his brow with his sleeve. "Is there any way to fix it?"

The monk shook his head. "No! And there's no jar of spare hydraulic fluid anyway! The brake's been rendered useless!" Grunting with exertion, the monk grabbed his staff and suddenly reached out over the front end of the platform.

Kenzoku shouted up in alarm. "Hoi, Nenjuzu! What the hell are you doing?"

"Shut up! The brake was my responsibility, and I'm going to make sure I take care of it…!" The monk gave a yell as he suddenly plunged his staff between the trolley's wheels. There was a shower of sparks as Nenjuzu continued to keep the staff lodged in the trolley's driveshaft.

"Nenjuzu!" Katsushiro yelled in alarm as the trolley started to tremble and shake.

"GYAAAAAAAH!" Steam poured out from the machine-monk's exhaust pipe as he maintained his grip on the staff. "FOR THE MIDDLE WAAAAY!"

The trolley was enveloped by steam.

There was a final shower of sparks, and the trolley suddenly skidded to a halt. Kenzoku stared at a steel door handle that stood mere inches from his head. "…Nice save."

Nenjuzu collapsed as he finally let go of his staff. "Hooooooooooh…"

Katsushiro sighed as he re-sheathed his weapon. "That was close, but you will hear no complaints from me. If it weren't for you, we might have surely perished."

The monk chuckled. "You never know. Anyway, next time I'm walking." Wrenching his staff out with a sharp burst of effort, Nenjuzu examined the bottom portion.

The lower section had been twisted and charred into a strange, spiral-like shape as it had been wrapped around the trolley's spinning driveshaft. Nenjuzu laughed. "I guess it would serve for good decoration and as a fine story to tell over a bottle of sake."

Kenzoku scrambled out of the trolley and glanced around. "Where are we…?"

Katsushiro stared at a large section of wall tagged with graffiti. "If I didn't know any better… Well, I'll be. We've landed near Kougakyou's entertainment district."

Nenjuzu looked up as he picked up his bundle of possessions. "You familiar with this place?"

The samurai nodded. "Another old comrade of mine lives here. We might be able to rest safely inside. As far as I can remember, the entertainment district has its own police rules, and is usually exempt from outside interference." Katsushiro smiled wryly. "Almost anybody is welcome to enter, so long as they bring with them the intention of refreshment, and as long as they don't disturb the peace."

"Sounds like a perfect place for a crime ring to me," Kenzoku muttered as he hefted his sword. "But I'm not complaining if there's food and a bed to be found. Are we gonna go in?"

Katsushiro nodded. "Would be good for us. I wonder if he still has that route open…"

Kenzoku arched an eyebrow. "Route? What route?"

"Forget it. I'll explain later… if we can find him." Katsushiro beckoned for the others to follow. "Let's go."

Striding through the open gates, the trio walked into a glittering street of neon lights, constant noise, and the smell of cigarettes, money, and fleshly pleasures.

Nenjuzu coughed. "The demons of the lower hells would have a field day with this kind of place."

Katsushiro politely waved away several scantily clad ladies that attempted to drape themselves over his well-built frame. "Sorry. Not interested." The group of prostitutes pouted at having lost such a fine catch.

Kenzoku made a face as a nearby drunkard blew sake-scented breath into his face before stumbling away. "How does this friend of yours manage to live in a place like this?"

Katsushiro was silent for a short moment. "When you've lived on a battlefield, almost any other place is preferable. Even if it is filled with all the fleshly vices of humanity."

* * *

The inn hadn't changed a bit ever since the first time Katsushiro had set foot here. It still had that tacky neon sign in the front, and once again, another drunken samurai was being kicked down the front steps.

Katsushiro looked down at the erstwhile guest, then looked up at a figure dressed in garishly clashing clothes. The figure looked down at the trio, and then suddenly gave a start of surprise.

"…Katsushiro? My boy, is that you?"

Katsushiro smiled as he beckoned for Kenzoku and Nenjuzu to follow him up the steps. He then turned back to the figure standing at the top of the stairs. "It's been a long time, Master Shichiroji."

"Don't 'Master' me, you young rascal!" Shichiroji smiled as an attractive-looking woman joined him.

Katsushiro bowed to the new arrival. "Oh, greetings to you as well, Miss Yukino."

Yukino smiled in greeting. "That's 'Missus', now." She smiled at Shichiroji, who blushed in embarrassment. "We've been married for the last two years now."

"Congratulations!" Katsushiro smiled at Shichiroji. "I'm very happy for you, Shichiroji."

Yukino kissed her husband. "We're expecting a child in seven months."

Shichiroji rubbed the back of his head as he grinned sheepishly. "Well, anyway, this conversation's not becoming fit for the public street. Let's at least continue this discussion in a more comfortable setting. Please, why don't you and your friends join us for the dinner hour?"

Kenzoku drooled at the prospect of a good meal. "Food… lead me to it!"

* * *

The quality of the meal, the service, and the entertainment was still excellent, just as Katsushiro remembered it to be. "Your dedication to your business hasn't changed a bit, Shichiroji."

Shichiroji grinned. "As always, my young friend, this place is forever open for those who wish to cleanse their bodies and minds. But tell me, so you and your friends are all heading back to Kanna?"

Katsushiro nodded as he indicated Kenzoku with a pair of chopsticks. "Aye. This young scamp here needs to apologize to Kikuchiyo for having borrowed his sword without permission."

Kenzoku facefaulted. "You don't need to be so blunt, Katsushiro."

Shichiroji smiled. "He's just like ol' Kikuchiyo too, eh, Katsushiro?"

"Aye. A buffoon in body, a samurai in spirit." Katsushiro smiled as he thought back. "Say, Shichiroji, have you heard from Master Kambei lately?"

Shichiroji grinned. "Aye. Last I heard from him, he gave up the way of the warrior. I hear he's now a priest serving his duties at the monastery of Itsu-Ji." The former samurai's grin widened. "You know, he's quite a sight to behold now. Can you just imagine Kambei without his flowing hair? When I first went to visit him, I almost screamed the first time I saw him."

Kenzoku quirked an eyebrow. "Who is this Master Kambei you're all talking about?"

Katsushiro smiled in recollection. "Kambei was a close friend and comrade of Shichiroji. He was also the leader of the Seven who saved Kanna." Katsushiro looked back over to Shichiroji. "In any case, it's good to hear that he's doing well. Where is Itsu-Ji? I may wish to pay him a visit."

"Itsu-Ji is located to the far east of the desert. It should be close to the road that travels between Kougakyou and Kanna. It's a huge structure. Can't miss it."

Katsushiro bowed. "Thank you."

"Say, what about Kambei's sword? Have you been taking good care of it?"

Katsushiro nodded as he patted one of the blades strapped to his belt. "Aye. Haven't forgotten his lessons on maintenance."

Shichiroji grinned. "Once you've learned that lesson from him, you never forget it!"

Katsushiro's face now grew serious. "Master Shichiroji, I was wondering… is that route that leads through the domain of the Shikimoribito still open? I was wondering if-"

Shichiroji nodded. "Aye. It's still open, if you're looking for a shortcut out of the city. They're still doing business as usual, though I hear that Master Ayamaro has now joined them. It intrigues me to wonder how he manages to do work with his own two hands." Shichiroji yawned. "In any case, it's late. I suggest we turn in for tonight, and tomorrow I'll take you down to the canal."

Katsushiro nodded. "That will work. Thank you again for everything, Master Shichiroji."

Nenjuzu, who up until this point had been quietly sipping his tea, abruptly spoke up. "Master Shichiroji, a question."

"Hmm?"

"Are the Nobuseri still doing business with the Shikimoribito as well? I heard rumors that they were once regular business partners with them."

Shichiroji shook his head. "No. They were all killed at Kanna while we were defending the village."

The monk pointed at a nearby window as he snatched up his staff. "If they're all dead, then what do you call THAT?"

The gigantic faceplate of a Nobuseri warrior stared through the window.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
